


Forget Me Not

by BookishTea



Series: Molliarty [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst and Feels, Awkward Romance, Crying, F/M, Gift Fic, Guilt, Jim from IT, Memory Loss, Regrets, Secret Relationship, Swearing, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-04-30 00:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14484861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: "This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air." What happens when two lost souls find each other? Are they still forgotten?





	1. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, once again I want to give credit where it's due, and to thank the lovely [whyimmathere](http://whyimmathere.tumblr.com/) for showering me in fic covers. I adore you, and the time you put into supporting me. xoxo

                                                      

She let out a slow exhale, eyes momentarily shutting at the chill to the air. It was meant to be spring, but everything was still so cold. The fact that the flowers were surviving in such temperature came to a complete surprise. Molly wet her chapped lips, fingers brushing fallen leaves from the stone. Wind at her back, she stood up from her knelt position, opening her eyes. 

The sound of crunching grass came to a stop beside her. He uncrossed his arms from his wool sweater clad torso, sniffling loudly. Molly smiled sadly at the sudden feeling of a hand brushing against her's, with a hurried movement that turned into him clasping it. He'd never been good at moments like these, comforting... But he was trying. 

"Thanks," she mumbled, catching a glimpse of him at the corner of her eye. The tousled hair, and the red nose. For what seemed the millionth time her heart gave a swan dive, leaving Molly a sputtering mess when she surfaced. If she had told her past self this is where she would have ended up, visiting her father's grave with _him_ of all people... Well, no one could be faulted for thinking she was insane. Half the time she was wondering the same thing.

* * *

_  
A month prior_

Things never go as they are planned, at least that was the pessimistic belief that Molly Hooper ended up having to accept. When she had graduated from university, fresh faced and excited for life, she had made a list. On a pink piece of paper with a leaking pen, she'd hastily written her goals.

  1. Graduate uni
  2. Get a job
  3. Move out!!!
  4. Adopt a cat
  5. Have a boyfriend(go on cute dates)
  6. Marry
  7. ????                                                                                                                                                                                                             



That had appeared simple, but she was already in her thirties and still on number four. At this stage in her life, number five was highly unlikely. Even Sherlock had said it was a lost cause, and he was never wrong... 

Molly sighed loudly, adjusting the strap to her tote bag. She only had another street to go until she reached her flat, and desperately she wished she got there before it rained. With a glance at the grey thick clouds overhead, she dropped her gaze with a curse, pace quickening. It would be just her luck, it wasn't as if the rest of her miserable day had gone any better.

She didn't have anyone to wait on when she returned home, Sherlock was gone, his time using her flat as a bolthole was up. He'd only spent what felt a night before he was whisked away, leaving her to play a facade. It was sad really, how much she missed having someone to see when she got off work. Even if he left his dirty dishes on the table, and never picked up after himself, it had all been... Exhilarating. Perhaps that showed how lonely and bland her life was. God, what would her mother say if she knew?

Molly's nose scrunched up, immediately squashing the idea. Best to never bring it up at their next board game night. A raindrop to her forehead startled Molly from her thoughts, she held her bag a little closer to her person and ran the rest of the way. By the time she was sliding her key in the lock, she was soaking wet and panting. To her surprise the door swung open easily. For a second she stood in the door frame, unsure whether she should panic or not. Sometimes she lost her head on her way to work, but she _swore_ she locked the door. Had someone broken in? Or was she truly turning into a scatterbrain?

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a step forward, crossing the threshold. Her landlord wouldn't be home yet anyway, around this time she would still be at the salon, chatting with her friends. To free her arms, Molly warily set her bag onto the ground, making sure it was done soundlessly. Hovering by the closet, she took an umbrella out and lifted it over her shoulder, ready to swing if necessary.

Kitty printed socks tip toeing on the creaking floorboards, she gingerly made it through her house, noting the several windows opened and the billowing curtains. They were definitely not like that when she left for her commute. A part of her mind was screaming to run away, to call the police instead of being so stupid. But even as her body trembled checking for this mysterious invader, she pushed on. She was tired of nothing going right, for people walking all over her, she wasn't going to let this stranger do the same. 

No one was in the living room or kitchen, nor the laundry room. Hair plastered to her face with sweat despite the chill of the weather, Molly tightened her fingers on the handle, heading towards the bedroom with purpose. She stopped in front of the door, head tilting at the chattering beyond it. 

 _This is it, breathe_. She quietly inhaled, and with a shout she yanked the door open. Heart hammering in her ears, she hurried in and swung the umbrella as hard as she could. The person she hit yelped, dropping what they held in their hands.

"Ow! Molly, what the hell are you doing?!" She didn't even realize she closed her eyes. Gasping when something ripped the makeshift weapon from her hands, and gave a hard hit to the top of her head. Her eyes popped open, bewildered to be seeing her best friend standing before her.

"Meena?!" She choked, relief washing over her despite the pain. "What are you doing here?!"

Throwing the umbrella to the bed, her friend shot her a glare. "I'm returning the books you lent me. Didn't you get my texts?"

"Oh..." Molly cleared her throat, vaguely remembering seeing them on her lunch break. She'd completely forgotten. "Right, sorry about that."

Meena snorted, "You better be. What even was that? You were acting like I was some pet thief or something."

Molly dropped down to pick the fallen books from the floor, "Don't even joke about that," she muttered under her breath. She'd seen too many videos of people stealing animals, even going to the lengths of breaking into homes to do so. Toby was a treasured part of her family, the idea of someone taking him was terrifying. 

"Sorry," her friend said with a sigh, "Are you doing okay? You seem kind of...?"

Molly placed the stack of novels on her dresser, glimpsing her reflection in the hanging mirror. She looked worn out, bags under her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Molly turned around, attempting a smile.

"Trust me, I'm good. A little tired, but I'll survive. I always do." Meena didn't look convinced. 

"I know you do, but... Maybe you should go out with me to the bar, meet some new people? Not.." She glanced around the messy bedroom, "Stay cooped up here all the time? You need to spend some time with others, socialize."

Molly frowned, "I socialize!"

"I don't count, and don't you dare mention that old lady you rent from!" Molly closed her mouth. "You have to put an effort in, it isn't like a guy is going to stumble onto your doorstep."

"You'd be surprised," Molly mumbled, vision of Sherlock coming to mind. 

"Molly." She peered upwards at the exasperated sigh, chest aching at the genuine look of worry her friend was shooting her. 

"Okay... I'll try." She looked to the side, flushing when she was swept up into a hug.

"I'm glad to hear it," Meena released her hold, leaning back to stare at Molly. "I'll send you a text when a group of us will be meeting up for drinks." 

Molly awkwardly trailed after her companion, watching as she grabbed her coat and bag from beside the couch - which Molly had completely missed. Shoes now slipped on, and hood to her jacket over her head, Meena paused by the door. "It may not be an issue, this neighbourhood is very quiet but..." She turned to look over her shoulder, "Next time close your windows? I don't want some asshole stealing your stuff."  _What?_ "See you later, dear." And with that she was alone again, fear raising up once again. If Meena hadn't opened them, then who the hell did?

She wouldn't receive her answer until later that night. 

Nothing looked to be missing, so she had put that concern far from her mind. Toby was discovered safe and sound in her clean laundry basket sleeping; content, she headed into the bathroom, shedding her clothes and turning the shower on. Door closed and steam fogging the mirror, Molly braced her hands on the sink, staring at her reflection. Meena had been right to worry, she looked like she was depressed. Sighing loudly, she drew a sad face on the glass before she straightened. Hoping to erase the smell of decomp from her body, she peeled the curtain back, and stepped in.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later_

 

Dressed in a bathrobe and hair wrapped in a towel, Molly turned the volume to the TV up. Trying not to fall asleep on the couch, her back would regret it, she watched Dr. Frankenstein bring his monster to life. Eyes fixated onto the black and white classic, she couldn't help but notice how the lightning and thunder in the film mixed together with the weather outside. The darkness of the room was sliced through as a streak of light cut through the sky, brightness visible through her closed curtains. 

She burrowed deeper into the cushions, hoping to ignore the deafening roar. The covered monster begun to move its fingers, movement steadily increasing until it was able to lift its hand. 

"It's moving. It's alive..." Dr. Frankenstein gave an ecstatic giggle, unable to contain his joy. Amidst the boom of thunder, a sound rose up, the shock of the knocking having the hairs on Molly's arms stand up. 

"It's only a branch," she whispered, not wanting to look away, "brushing against the building."

"It's alive! _It's alive!"_   Over the scientist's shouting, the front door swung open, crashing into the wall. She wasn't sure if she screamed or not, clambering to her feet to stare at the shadowy figure. With a flash of lightning behind, it showed the features of a scared sickly man.

Molly gasped, strength leaving her legs. Falling to the ground, her mind became blank as he staggered in, barely managing to shut the door behind him. 

She was dreaming, she had to be. What other explanation is there? 

"N-no," she croaked, on the verge of vomiting. Ignorant to this, her unwanted guest flipped the light switch on. She had hoped the spectre would disappear once he was fully visible, had hoped that she fell asleep and this was an awful nightmare. But no... Jim Moriarty was still standing in her living room.

"Molls."

She flinched, crawling back, trying to establish some distance from him. "Get away," she whispered, "you're not here. You're... you're _dead_." He kept staring at her, brows furrowed. It was alarming how bad she felt, looking at him. Shivering and sopping wet, he was so bloody pitiful. 

"I'm not," he protested, voice hoarse as if he hadn't used it in forever. "But Molls-"

"S-stop." She tried to stand up, but her legs weren't working properly. "Stop calling me that."

He had to be dead, they told her so - she'd seen his corpse being wheeled out. Sherlock had been adamant about it, ranted about little else before he too vanished. Jim struggled the rest of the way until he was before her, falling to his knees with a groan. "I think..." He wheezed, "I think I've been in an accident."

 _Accident?_ Before she could rationalize her next actions, she reached a hand to his face, brushing the cold skin of his cheek. He didn't turn into a puff of smoke... Molly gulped, fingers sluggishly trailing up to the crown of his head, prodding for the wound consistent in self inflicted gunshot suicides. The gaping hole and spattered grey matter wasn't there, only a large lump and some shallow scratches. Her hand fell into her lap.

 _What did this all mean?_ If she wasn't hallucinating and there was a recently resurrected criminal mastermind in her living room, dripping water everywhere, why was he here? A shout bubbled up in her throat, the idea that Moriarty was going to finally kill her slammed full force into her. Before she could panic, try to escape, all of the air was knocked from her chest.

Jim was putting all of his weight onto her, leaning forward and his arms wrapped around her waist, he burrowed his head into her stomach. "I feel out of sorts."

Molly opened her mouth and then gradually closed it, head snapping towards the bedroom - where she knew her cell phone was. Her gaze lowered, feeling the shaky plumes of hot air. With one look at him, she knew she didn't have a choice. 

"J..." She attempted it again, "Jim... Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You're going to get sick." She peeled him away from her, struggling to get them both up from the floor and to the bedroom. Arm tossed over her shoulder, her unwanted guest was barely awake, not able to help too much in the journey. By the time they arrived at their destination, Molly was panting.

Stumbling to the bed, they both landed on it with a grunt. Slipping out of his grasp, she repeated "You need to get out of those clothes." She reeled back when his eyes opened, clouded but still fixated onto her. He gave a hum, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket and pulling himself up. These clothes were more on par with what he wore as that drone from IT, and not what she had glimpsed before they zipped up the body bag. It looked almost like pajamas...

"Oh," she exhaled, gobsmacked when he drew the shirt over his head and let it fall onto the ground. One look at his pale and scarred body, and Molly turned away with burning ears. Behind her there was the sounds of a belt being noisily undone and jeans with boxer-briefs soon following it. 

"Done."

Slowly turning back around, she tried to stare only at his face as she blindly reached for the covers and swaddled him. Criminal mastermind wrapped like a burrito in her bed, she said that she would be back in a second, and hurried out of the room. Socks sliding on the floorboards, she hurried into the bathroom, and opened the medicine cabinet. Scanning the shelves she grabbed a bottle of Ibuprofen, and a thermometer.

From the kitchen she fetched a glass of cool water and went back. A part of her wanted Jim to be a illusion, to be gone when she opened the door. Of course he was still there, big dark eyes peering at her over her grandmother's quilt. A pit in the bottom of her belly, she strolled forward and placed the glass and bottle on the nightstand, sitting on the side of the bed as she fumbled with the device. 

Heart coming to a screeching halt when a hand was placed on her's, he took the thermometer from her, drawing it under the blankets and stuck in the crease of his armpit. They sat there in silence, waiting for the reading and listening to the cascade of rain outside. "Do you..." She glanced away from his gaze. "Do you want some medicine?" Molly offered a comforting smile at his nod, picking up the bottle and unscrewing the childproof lid. Tapping it on her palm, she passed a single pill over and then the glass. While he swallowed it and noisily drained the cup, she was focused on the cell phone.

It would be so easy picking it up, running from here... From him and calling the police. Her hand stretched out, almost touching it.

"Molls." Her hand dropped, and instead she took the glass. 

"What are you doing here?" She didn't think he'd actually answer, hoping he wouldn't hear the inquiry.

"I don't know, I can't remember much after our third date. It's all a blur." 

She chewed on her bottom lip, not sure whether he was lying or not. "Do... Do you remember being on a roof at St. Barts?"

"St. Barts...?" His brows knit together. "What could I possibly be doing up there?" 

"You don't remember anything?"

He shook his head. "Not after our time spent together."

Molly flinched at the abrupt beeping, awkwardly taking the thermometer when it was offered. The number on the screen read as a slight fever, nothing to be too concerned about, but she should still watch it. "Right, it's best if you sleep. You've had a long day." She went to get off the bed, when his hand shot out and held on her arm. 

"Please," he whispered, expression so confused and scared. "Can you stay?" Her eyes peered at the cell phone, having those troubled thoughts once more. She should be saying no, should be running as far away as she could from this man. He was the type to topple governments, kill without a care - she'd after all been to court, had seen the evidence presented. And even if she could look past all of that, Jim had lied to her, pretended to be a decent bloke while using her. 

There was a bittersweet taste to her mouth as she let him pull her forward, resting on the pillow next to him. She tried to hide her shaking fingers in the fabric of her blouse, eyes lifting so she wouldn't be directly gazing at him. Still, she could feel him boring into her, warm breath fanning over her cheeks. The intimacy of it nearly killed her, how much she missed the company of another human being.

She didn't know how long she lay there, frozen in place as his breathing became quiet and lengthened. Only then did she look downwards, tracing the lines of his features. She couldn't recall the last time she was this close to another person, had found herself enveloped in an easy silence.

Not wanting to wake him, she slipped away, careful of how the mattress dipped with her weight. She took the cell phone, and crept out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her. Molly stood in the hallway for a moment, contemplating on how she should move forward. If she understood the symptoms correctly and she wasn't going crazy, Jim Moriarty had amnesia. But in God's name why was he on her doorstep of all places? Surely there was some underground facility that was meant to be taking care of him, or some place that genius baddies go when they're meant to be dead?

Did that mean he escaped? If that were true, that still didn't explain why her? She carefully walked down the corridor, entering the living room and plopping down on the couch with a curse.

Weight of her predicament weighing heavily on her shoulders, she leaned backwards, pinching the bridge of her nose. What should she do? Should she phone the police? But if she did, would they believe her or would she be arrested as well? Did she even believe herself at this point?

There was absolutely no doubt in Molly's mind that Jim was evil, the trail of corpses behind him attested to that. However the man in her bed... She couldn't help but think he was _different_ , there was something so melancholy and raw about him. She didn't know what to do. God have mercy on her soul, but she didn't know...


	2. Present

Head resting on her elbows, she stared blankly at the wall across from her. There was a criminal mastermind in her bed, dozing peacefully. When she awoke, back sore from the cushions, she'd dismissed last night as a joke her subconscious was playing on her. Call it her over imagination and guilt about the past, but when she checked, he was still there, unaware of the severe emotional turmoil he was causing. 

And to make matters worse, he looked so bloody peaceful! She'd didn't have the heart to wake him up and demand answers, not after that.

She gave a sigh, lifting her head so she could take another sip of her coffee.

"Good morning."

Molly spat it out, sitting up straight. Jim was standing in the entrance, appearing sheepish with a sheet wrapped around his waist. Her eyes naturally gave him a look over, gawking at his hip bones and the trail of hair that went from his navel and downwards. Immediately she adverting her gaze to the ceiling. "Morning," she forced out, wanting to slap herself at her high pitched strangled tone. 

"Is that pot fresh?"

She hummed, not trusting herself to do anything else. Her ears picked up the sound of the sheet rustling and his feet padding over the tiles to the counter. A cabinet opened and the mugs were moved about. While he fixed himself a cup, Molly thought over her current situation for what seemed an endless amount of times. It was really foolish for her not to call this in, and even worse that she still hadn't. But really she had never been good at conversations on the phone, it was like talking in a foreign language for the first time. After they had breakfast she was going to head over to work and spill everything. Really, she was...

A mug was set on the table across from her, and Jim took the seat accompanying it. "You didn't sleep with me."

The statement startled her. "I... Er- No, I didn't. Sorry."

"And why not?" He set his mug down, licking the sweetness away from his lips. At the sight of that, Molly wanted to hurl herself from the nearest window. "Aren't you comfortable?"

"Um..." She looked away, fighting the urge to linger on his defined torso. "I just figured you needed some space."

"Space" he drew out, like this was his first time hearing the word. He stretched his arm over the table and grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb along the skin there. "I don't need space when it comes to you."

Molly yanked her hand away like it burned, "W-why don't we get you dressed?" She nervously laughed, leaving her now cold coffee behind. "I'll check my closet!" Pushing the chair back, she hurriedly retreated, hoping he hadn't seen her red face. 

Jim stared after her, brushing his bangs from his eyes. 

 

The only clothes she could offer him were several sizes too big, they had belonged to her father. When she went over his things, she couldn't part with a couple of his outfits. It was one of the few items she was allowed, everything else had been sifted through - the rest of her family were vultures. 

Taking the shirt from its box, she lifted it up to bury her face in it. She sighed when she lowered it, squinting. There were a pair of jeans and a jacket he could take - she'd need to check on the underwear she put in last night, and later after her shift she'd have to buy him a new wardrobe. At least so he wouldn't have to wander her flat in linens, not too much, just enough so he'd look presentable when Molly... Did whatever she was going to do. Not as if she had an actual plan or anything.

Clothes in her arms, she found him in the kitchen, going through her fridge for something to eat. Molly cleared her throat, smiling timidly when he paused in his scrutiny.

"If you want, you can have a shower and get dressed in these. I'll just need to fetch your... Um, delicates."

Jim opened his mouth, but was cut off by his stomach loudly groaning. "Can I eat first?"

She nodded. "I'll set a plate to the side for you, I have to eat before I leave anyways." The fridge door closed.

"Then I'll come with you." He wasn't still thinking he was Jim from IT, was he? Would he try to join her daily commute? What if someone saw them together?

"That's not necessary!"

Jim rose a brow, "Why not? You don't want people to talk?" 

"I..."

He waved her off. "It's understandable, you aren't someone to mix emotions with the workplace, right?" She... She wasn't sure if that was an intentional jab or not, either way she felt awful after hearing it. 

"No, but..." She nervously swallowed, mind racing to find a reason for him to stay home. It was as if a light bulb was suddenly shining above her head. "You don't remember what happened? At work?"

"No...?"

"After... the next day after our date it rained badly, and you were supposed to meet up with me, but you never did. You slipped on the steps outside your place and bam! Next thing I know you're in the hospital a-"

"Wait." Jim's brows furrowed, "I was in the hospital? Then why as I walking around the block?"

"Er-" _Shit._ "I'm not too sure, but I do know you got a nasty bump from the fall. If I were you I'd wait a week or two before I went back."

"And you were there? At this doctor's appointment?"

"I... yes...?"  

He didn't look like he believed her, which wasn't surprising, Molly was a notoriously bad liar. She flinched when he sighed, stomach twisting as he leaned against the fridge.

"I'm sure you've explained this before." He brushed his hair back, fingers absently probing his head for the slight bump. Jim hissed when he touched it, the spot was still tender. Dropping his hand, his eyes rose to meet her's. "I'm sorry you're going through all of this."

"It's..." She cleared her throat, "It's fine. I'm happy to help." 

His face morphed into a gentle smile, briefly lighting his face up before he eyed what she held. "Thanks" he mumbled, strolling across the kitchen to take the clothes from her. She tried not to touch him too much, afraid he'd notice how sweaty her hands were. He stared at her father's possessions for a few moments, voice curiously faint. "I don't mean to be a bother, but could I ask a favour from you?" She was silent, offering a nod when he peered upwards. "You've already done so much - and feel free to refuse, but could I stay?"

"Stay?" She repeated, not quite understanding yet.

His cheeks turned a fascinating flushed colour, "I'm confused about everything, so until I at least ground myself a bit, I was wondering if I could...?" It hit her.

"Oh," she breathed, her own face warming. _He didn't want to be alone..._ She wasn't sure if she should be like this, chest, squeezing at the raw confession. The neediness... "As long as you want, you can stay."

Jim's hand reached out, fingers lightly brushing along her shoulder a few seconds before the touch was gone. Afterwards, they awkwardly stood there, not clear on what to do next. Jim gave a nod down to the clothes, mumbling "I'll get changed."

"Right, you do that. I'll make, um, breakfast." Walking up to a counter, she fumbled with the drawers below it for some utensils as Jim went past her. The rustling of sheets became quieter as he left the room and went down the hallway to the bathroom. Immediately Molly's shoulders slumped, and she let out a massive sigh.  

* * *

 

She hated leaving him, but reasoned it couldn't be helped. The money was needed to pay the bills and to feed herself and Toby. At the thought of food, Molly sighed, pace brisk as she walked up the street to St. Barts. She made him breakfast while he showered, coming to the realization when she surveyed the fridge that she didn't have enough for two to eat. 

For the longest time it has been only her and Toby, the idea of buying for another person was jarring. What did he like and dislike? She was sure he was used to more expensive meals, brands that she couldn't hope to afford or even begin to pronounce. After her shift, she'd need to stop by the grocery. _What about turning him in?_

Molly gave her head a shake, "I can't send him off on an empty stomach." After they ate, then she'd tell the police everything. Adjusting the strap to her bag, she pushed open the doors.

After a lengthy journey down a corridor and a ride on an elevator, she came to the lower level. Stepping off, she could see the heavy set of doors to the mortuary. She never minded working with the dead, in fact, she thought it was peaceful, but for whatever reason the task was harder to do.

Image of Jim flashing behind her eyelids, she moved onward. She was a foot away from entering the morgue when someone called out her name.

"Molly!"

Spinning on her heels, she lifted her hand in an awkward wave. "Oh, hello Meena." There was a sour expression on her best friend's face, stalking forward in her scrubs. The anger was shocking, making an intimated Molly take a few steps back. "Um, is everything all right?"

Her friend came a halt before her, shoe tapping on the tiles and hand placed on her hip. "I don't know, _is_ it?"

Molly glanced away, brows furrowed when her gaze returned. "Sorry, but I... I don't know how to respond to that...?"

" _Molly!"_   Meena exhaled, tone so utterly _done._ "I've been trying to get in touch with you all night and this morning! You didn't answer any of my calls or texts."

"Oh..." She pulled a strap to her bag back, fumbling inside until she was grasping her cell phone. Turning it on, she stared at the series of alerts. "Sorry" she mumbled, turning it off and putting it back. "My cell phone was on silent mode. Did you need anything particular?"

"I need to confirm if you're coming tonight." Meena sighed at her friend's owlish blinking. "The pub? Remember? I set up that blind date with Ian."

"Right... Ian..." How was she going to bloody explain not coming for drinks? _Oh, sorry. I got a bloke back at my place, not only does he have a case of amnesia, but he's also supposed to be_ _dead._ Maybe baby steps, yeah? "I can't. I um, I'm getting my carpet cleaned!"

Meena was starting to glare now, never good that. "You're what?"

"It's because of Toby, last night he wasn't feeling well and vomited everywhere. It's really bad, I don't want to bring someone home and let him see... Well, that..."

"Are you seriously trying to make your cat into a scapegoat?"

"Er- no...?"

Meena shook her head, "Molly. If you don't want to go tonight, that's fine. But you can't expect to get a boyfriend by not going out, fate doesn't drop Mr. Perfect on your doorstep." Sighing, she spared the jittery pathologist one last meaningful look. "I'll tell Ian your schedule got changed, but next time, give me a bit of a notice. All right?"

Molly rubbed her hands together, gently calling out "Sorry, and thank you!" Meena gave a half wave over her shoulder as she went down the corridor. Feeling awful, Molly turned back to the morgue doors and headed inside. "I have to do something nice for her," she mumbled, "maybe buy a gift basket. She loves those." She hung her jacket on the hook, putting her bag in her office before she started her work for today.

* * *

 

After what seemed forever, Molly finally trudged up the stairs to her flat. She typically didn't mind the long stretch of hours, but maybe that was because the only person waiting for her at home was Toby. Back aching from being bent over a corpse all day, Molly unlocked the door and slipped inside. A part of her impatience also had to deal with the fact that she couldn't monitor Jim while she was working, who knew what he did while she was gone. For all she knew, he was lounging around in jewels he stole from the Royal family or whatever former(current?) criminal mastermind's did.

"I'm home!" She called out, feeling odd even saying that. "Jim?" She slipped out of her shoes, setting her bag down before she hurried forward. Her fear was fleeting, as he was soon found standing in the kitchen, wearing one of her frilly pink aprons. 

He held a spatula poised in his hand, the other gripping a frying pan handle. "Hello, how was work?"

"It was a bit boring... Um, Jim...?"

"Yes?"

"What are you making?"

"Oh, this?" He moved to the side, letting her peer onto the stove top. "I thought you might be hungry, so I decided to make dinner."

Slowly Molly closed her gaping mouth, "You really didn't have t-"

"Molls, please." She glanced away from the delicious smelling food. "You've done so much for me, a meal is nothing. Now go, have a seat. I'll be done soon."

"Okay... but are you sure you don't n-" With the pointed look he gave her, Molly stammered before she hurried to sit down at the dining table. He'd already placed a pair of plates and cutlery down. God he was good, almost... too good... Staring at her grandmother's dishes, Molly started to think that this was all just a ruse to catch her off guard. 

Maybe his memories had returned, or maybe they were never gone to begin with. This was all just a complex plot to watch her choke to death on poisoned food, he'd laugh as she clutched her throat a- Crispy parmesan and garlic chicken was set down on her plate, along with a generous helping of spiced zucchini. Peering upwards, she watched as he did the same for his own. Padding back over to the stove to put the pan down, and opening the fridge to fetch a half empty bottle of wine and some glasses before he returned. 

"Dig in" he said encouragingly, taking the cork out and filling her a glass.

She mumbled a "Thank you," taking it from him. Bottle now in the middle of the table, he took his seat and eagerly reached for his fork. When he glanced up, his brows knitted together. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not particularly," she lied, inwardly cursing when her stomach chose that moment to groan hungrily. The corners of Jim's lips pulled back in a crooked smile.

"Ah, I see what you're doing."

"Y-you do?" She whispered, grip tightening around the wine glass. 

"Of course. Although it isn't necessary, it's still sweet of you letting me have the first bite." 

Molly blinked for a few seconds than gave a sheepish smile, "You saw right through me." She continued smiling as he cut a piece of chicken and then scooped some zucchini into his mouth. Swallowing it down, he then sipped some wine. From the rim he winked at her.

Shifting nervously in her seat, she lowered her gaze to her plate. He hadn't any reaction, at least nothing immediate. Was it truly safe? Lump in the back of her throat, she drained the majority of her wine before she picked up her fork. Unable to help herself, she peered up once more. Elbows on the table, he was resting his head on his knuckles as he watched her, grinning as she took that first bite.

"Goodness" she mumbled, shocked as the chicken touched her taste buds. Hurriedly she gobbled it down, already going for another piece. It was good, really good. Enough that it would be something she'd order at an expensive restaurant. 

Jim lightly chuckled, watching her eat for a few moments more before he picked his own fork up again. "I'll take it that it's to your liking?" He couldn't understand what she said with all of the food in her mouth, but that was fine. The message was clearly conveyed. 

 

The sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain finally ceased, both plates and glasses emptied. Eyes closing, Molly sighed, satisfied with the fullness of her belly. She hadn't realized how hungry she had been. Her eyes shot open when she felt something touch her face. Stretched across the table, Jim smiled sweetly at her as he dragged his thumb along her bottom lip and to her cheek. When he pulled back, Molly thought she was going to have a heart-attack.

Softly he said, "You had some crumbs on your face." Brain not functioning, Molly was unfit to respond. Blanking staring after him, she watched as he pushed his chair back and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink. Rushing water filling the air, he took that ridiculous apron off before he begun to wash the dishes.

At the sight of her father's clothes, or perhaps Jim's back muscles, she mumbled "We need to go out."

Jim paused holding a sponge, tossing a glance over his shoulder. "Sorry?"

Molly cleared her throat, feeling her face warm up. "You need new clothes, you can't just wear the same things every day."

"I don't mind, I could always walk around naked." Jim laughed at Molly choking on her own saliva. "I was only kidding!"

 _Christ._ He was trying to kill her... That didn't sound like something Jim would say, maybe he didn't notice, but ever so often he'd say something out of character. Like bits of the criminal side wanted to be known. As much as the idea of meeting that version was terrifying, she couldn't help but note he hadn't done anything to harm her yet. But how long would that last?


	3. Future

They were cutting it close, only twenty minutes until the shop closed, but they still made it. Tucked in a back aisle, they stood amidst the men's section. Already they had found several clothes, all on a heap on the cart. Pushing it, Molly lazily trailed behind as they made their way towards the fitting room.

Still having the key from the front counter, she passed it over to Jim so he could unlock a stall. After he finished, he flashed her a smile over his shoulder. The smile she returned was timid, similar to the feeling in her chest. 

"Thanks," he mumbled, passing her the key back in exchange for a bundle of clothing. "I shouldn't be too long." The gentleness to his expression deepened at her nod, offering a wink before he closed the door. As soon as it closed Molly moved the cart to the side, and sighed. While she waited, she let her eyes roam and study her surroundings. Aside from the staff, they were the only ones here - a fact she was more than happy about.

Even with closing time nearing, this little shop was often empty - a hidden jem to the locals, it was run by a pair of old ladies, the type who didn't bother installing security cameras. When she first noted that detail, a couple of years ago, she thought it was a grave mistake. And besides, she didn't want to find out that the sweet elderly couple had been stolen from. Now, their disdain for technology was a blessing.

It was one less thing that Molly had to worry about. Fear of her companion appearing on video erased from her mind, she leaned against a wall and tapped her fingers on the cart's handle.

"Molls?"

Her head snapped up, stepping away to hurry to the stall. "Um, yes?"

"Here, dear." 

Chewing her bottom lip at the term of endearment, Molly had to raise to the points of her feet to take the pile over the door. Grunting, she held it close to her chest as she dropped back down. 

"Are you okay?"

She hummed, cheeks warming at the worry in his voice. Taking a few seconds to calm down, softly she asked, "Did they fit all right?" She frowned at the muffled response, tilting her head. "I... sorry I didn't h-" Before she could ask him to repeat his answer, the door swung open. At the sudden closeness of their faces Molly flinched, immediately she took several steps backwards.

Jim, who of course didn't look at all affected, gave her a small smile. "I think I'm ready to leave."

* * *

_A hazy past_

 

When he gingerly opened his eyes, the flickering spots of colour remained in his vision for a few moments longer. They stayed, even as he stared at the darkness in front of him. Slowly he tried to move his head, and it was either the position he was in or the pain, but he couldn't quite do so.

He made the smallest of sounds, a slight sigh when he was suddenly blinded by light. He swiftly closed his eyes, grunting as it beamed onto his face. Someone stammered an apology, presumably whoever unzipped the bag he was laying in... _Why was he laying in a bag?_

Eyes gradually opening, he squinted at the dark shiny material around him - it was like he was emerging from a cocoon. It was odd, but he didn't feel like a butterfly or anything of the sort. Perhaps it was the ache to the back of his head, the uncomfortable feeling he had in his neck, like he had whiplash - but as he shifted his gaze to the ceiling, he felt like the living dead.  

"Sir?"

His staring lowered to an upturned face, mostly covered by a surgical mask and cap. _Was he in a hospital? Was he... was he sick?_   Whoever they were, his lack of speaking clearly had a look of concern flashing over their face. A second later it disappeared, the sound of shoes clacking on tiles and a whispered discussion led to another person staring down at him. Gently he was helped out of the bag, careful as they moved him like he was glass or an expensive statute. 

Rooms spinning by, he found himself laying on a spacious plush bed. It felt so out of place, the whiteness and freshness to the sheets a complete opposite to the glimpse he caught of this place. The bare concrete walls and the damp chill to the air were different to this grand master bedroom. There was a wealth here that wasn't lost on him, but where did he fit in all of this? He opened his mouth, testing the soreness of his jaw. _Why was he aching all over?_

Thankfully the lights in here weren't as bright, someone had the thoughtfulness to dim them before he arrived. Looking away from the painting on the wall across from him, he watched as what appeared a nurse sat on the side of his bed. Cloth in hand she leaned forward, dragging it over his forehead. His instinct wanted him to smack that hand away, but the cloth's wetness was forgiven because of its warmth. 

His eyes closed once more, sighing at the sensation. Truly this building was cold, or was it only him? When she moved back to dip it in the bowl once more, he opened an eye, startled by the redness clouding the water as she dipped it in. Trembling all over, he started to raise a hand to his face. _Why was he bleeding?  What was happening? What was-_

 

"Jim?"

He blinked, confused by the image of Molly frowning at him. They were standing in the middle of a sidewalk, locked in a strange staring contest. Molly took a few steps to reach him, chilled outstretched hand brushing against his brow. "Are you okay?" She whispered, checking his temperature. He didn't like the look she was giving him, the apprehension had his stomach twisting into painful knots. 

Shifting the plastic bags over to another hand, he rose his free hand to the one touching him, holding it in place for a moment before lowering it. Molly's frown deepened when he turned that grip into holding.

"Oh..." She said on a hushed breath, not sure where to look but knowing it shouldn't be at him. Chewing her bottom lip when she felt his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, she let him tug her forward. While Molly contemplated her quickening heart and the trouble she was in for that happening, Jim's smile dropped as they walked. The memory - if it was a memory, was bothering him. It didn't make sense...

Brows knitting together, he searched his mind for the missing bits, a reason behind it but he couldn't find it. Left with only a headache and a burdensome heart, he pondered what it meant and how long it would take until he could remember everything. 

* * *

_Later on_

 

Standing in the kitchen, Molly awkwardly moved about. Jim was in the bedroom, which although not spoken, had been claimed by him. At least to Molly it was, he was more than welcoming about sharing, but to her... it was like the final straw, the step that marked her descent from the path of being a respectable and morally sound human being.

Not sure how to act in her own home, she took a thing of popcorn from a cupboard and placed it in the microwave. Resting on a counter, she chewed on a fingernail as she watched the bag spin around, timer slowly counting down. 

As it eventually ticked off from ten, Molly recalled the moment from before. When his expression went blank, it had been hard not to panic, but before she could have a fit over it and decide how she could possibly help him, he snapped out of his weird trance and comforted her. _Her_ , of all people...

Stepping up to the microwave, she sighed as she turned the timer off, opening the door to reveal the bulging bag.

"Are we watching a movie?"

Just as the popcorn had done earlier, Molly jumped, spinning around to find Jim standing a few feet from her. Hurriedly she stumbled back, hand pressed on her chest, like that would stop her heart from leaping out. _Christ, he was quiet._

Blinking with surprise, he then had the nerve to appear sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile. "S-sorry I didn't..."

"No," Molly croaked, "it's okay. It's my fault, I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn't heard you come in."

"If you want..." Jim glanced away from her, cheeks a bit red, but when he looked back there was a teasing expression on his face. "I could wear a bell? Just so you don't get another scare?"

She shook her head when she faced the microwave again, fighting laughter as she held a corner of the bag and withdrew it. "Maybe," she said around a giggle, placing the bag on the counter. Already Jim had found a large glass bowl, sliding it along to her. "Thanks." Peeling the tabs, she leaned backwards when a trail of steam billowed out. 

Soon the bowl was filled with popcorn, and the packaging was tossed in the bin. Automatically she took a piece, popping the buttery goodness into her mouth. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she choked on it when she felt a hand on the small of her back. "Do you mind?" Frantically she shook her head, spine still tingling with a shiver as he moved back to sprinkle some black pepper on the snack.

The spice bottle returned to its rightful place, Molly could do little but watch as he snatched the bowl and headed towards the living room. From there he called out "Are you coming?"

"Y-yes!" She coughed into her arm, the tips of her ears hot as she stumbled forward.

* * *

 

Tucked into herself, she fought the wave of sleep washing over her. It was hard, the warmth and familiarity was lulling her into a state of calmness. She shouldn't be, not now. After all of the snacks were eaten and the credits were rolling down the screen, both were wanting to go to bed. Molly's spine surely didn't want a repeat of yesterday, but she knew it was for the better. The plan was after Jim fell asleep, she'd sneak out - but now that she was actually here...

A yawn slid past her lips, drifting in the darkness of the room. Tired eyes finding the clock, she stared at the red numbers. _11:45 pm._ Really she needed to be sleeping right now, otherwise her body was going to kick her ass later. She reluctantly started to pull herself up, lightly grabbing the blanket covering her and went to slither out.

The sound of the mattress shifting pricking her ears, she froze in place when an arm was tossed over her. She moved her head to the side, studying what she could see of his face. After a moment of debating what to do, she cautiously lowered herself back down.

Jim was by no means a heavy man, but his sleeping form had a solid weight to it. It was... it was actually pleasant, the reinforcement that she wasn't alone. The roar of her heartbeat quietened at the gentle sound of his breathing, warm plumes of air grazing her ear, she finally let her eyes close.

She couldn't remember the last time she was like this, the sense of security with a body folded into her's. She sighed, burying her face into her pillow. At least for night, she'd forget all of the guilt and anguish. Tomorrow... tomorrow would be the day for handling problems.


	4. Caterpillar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> I just wanted to wish you all a Happy Fanfic Writer's Appreciation Day, and to express how thankful I am for being in such a caring fandom such as this. I hope all of my readers, and fellow molliarty writers are having a wonderful week. I love you all dearly. xoxo
> 
> \- Claire(BookishTea)
> 
> PS. The quote is by Sarah Williams.

_A week later, Saturday_

 

Molly softly blew on her fingers, wanting to return some of the warmth the cold had stolen. She was standing on a street, tucked against the large glass pane to a coffee house. Absently she glanced at it, catching a glimpse of the patrons inside. On some days she'd been jealous of them, the people that frequented cafes - that were regulars, and had their own little groups, who gossiped and laughed with one another. But now so much had changed, and that envy along with it. For once Molly wasn't being consumed by a crushing sense of loneliness, feeling as if she was a ghost walking amongst the living. 

Don't get her wrong, it wasn't gone completely. If she wasn't careful it snuck up on her, but compared to a month ago... It was bearable. 

She drank in her surroundings, hoping that would distract her from the reason why. 

The city was still dripping with the colours of the early morning, pale shades of yellows and pinks, mingling together with the fog that stretched across London. It transformed everything into vague, blurry shapes. Even the headlights to a bus were now mystifying, the beams that danced along the roads were turned into something new. Two lanterns being carried, or even a cluster of fireflies caught within this concrete jungle.

Entranced by this pondering, she was startled when someone suddenly addressed her. "Molly, is that you?" Turning around, she frowned at the figure appearing before her.

"John?" She mumbled, surprise painting her tone. After Sherlock had left - died to the rest of the world, she hadn't heard much of the doctor. Whenever they did stumble into one another, they were equally polite, but undeniably... Awkward. They always made plans to grab a cup of coffee and catch up, but neither had the time or want to follow through with it.

Molly chewed her bottom lip, studying him. He looked tired, and sad. "Hello," she called out gingerly, chest aching when he stepped up to her. 

"I thought it was you. Where have you been hiding, Molly?"

She shrugged her shoulders, saying with a small, but forced smile, "Here apparently." John nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he shifted his weight. "You look good." She offered, then immediately winced. The lie was obvious to the both of them.

"Thanks," John mumbled, gaze darting away."I've been feeling..." He broke off, needing a second to clear his throat before he could continue on, "better."

"That's fantastic. Better is... It's good."

After that, their conversation fell flat between them. It took John another throat clearing before he chanced at a second attempt, "So, are you doing anything right now?"

"Oh, I'm..." Molly froze, realization finally clicking into place. "Actually, yes, I'm on a..." She rubbed at her nose, whispering, "I'm on a date." She chewed on her lip, trying not to feel hurt over the look of shock crossing his face. She knew he didn't mean it like that, but it still felt like a punch to her gut.

"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to intrude-" Molly quickly waved the notion away.

"Don't be ridiculous you aren't, you're just trying to be..." The word polite hung above their heads, heavy and bittersweet.

"Well, good luck, and..." John glanced behind himself, giving a thumbs up when he looked back. "Message me later about what happened, and when you want to get together." Molly nodded. "For drinks."

"For drinks," she parroted back, nodding in agreement as he walked away. She waved him off, knowing as his back retreated that if she ever did send him a text, he'd never respond.

 

"Is everything all right?"

Heartbeat coming to a shuddering halt, Molly didn't even need to turn around before something warm was being pressed into her hands. In a quiet voice she assured him, "Yes." Finally, she peered upwards, accepting the styrofoam cup.

Jim was staring off to where John had disappeared, brows furrowed. "Is he a friend of yours?" Molly mulled that over. Technically, they were - certainly they had mutual friends, but by themselves... 

"Kind of."

"Kind of?" He looked down at her, raising a brow.

Molly slightly nodded, "We aren't close. Honestly, we're more acquaintances. Why?" Jim gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders, raising his cup to his mouth to take a sip. Curiously enough, Molly watched as the tips of his ears became red. _Is_ _he jealous?_ Molly blinked, letting him lead her down the sidewalk in a casual pace. The thought of that was bizarre. Even the character, Jim from IT, never showed any possessive behaviour when they dated. But was Moriarty different? Would this new version stay true to the facade, or veer off into uncharted territory?

She shook her head, cursing herself for thinking that way. She should be thinking of ways to correct her mistakes, to prevent another close call like that from happening again. If Jim had showed up earlier, then he and John would meet face to face. It was a terrifying thought. What would John do? Her grip on the cup tightened. Jim had only seen the back of John, but what if he saw his full face, would his memories come rushing back? What would he do if that happened? Would the small, sweet moments they shared become meaningless?

The mere thought of that was painful. She already knew it was awful to let him in, especially after all of the pain he had already caused her and her friends, but she couldn't help herself. Before she knew it, she was opening up to him. 

It was hard not to, cramped together in that tiny flat. Sharing the bathroom to brush their teeth, eating their meals, and sleeping beside one another. Quickly the empty spaces she didn't know existed were being filled. She looked upwards, startled by the warm fingers brushing along her's. 

He was staring straight ahead, but the corners of his lips were twitching, fighting a smile. She fought one as well, relishing in the feeling despite how wrong this all was.

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes into their walk, always sticking close to the most secluded streets, Molly scrunched her nose as she felt a large drop of water hit her forehead. Gasping slightly, she quickly looked upwards. What colour there had been was now drowned out, blanketed by thick grey clouds. With a roar, thunder disrupted the serenity, soon followed by streaks of jagged lightning. Rain now coming down in sheets, Molly mumbled a curse under her breath.

The forecast had called for a partially clouded day, and certainly nothing about thunderstorms. Before she could lament about it, and how ill prepared she was for it, she was jostled out of her dismal thoughts by a hand clutching her wrist.

Eyes widening, Molly simply stared at the back of Jim's form as he dragged her from the streets, and ushered her into a store. 

 

Bell jingling above to announce their arrival, Molly peered around her companion, wondering where exactly they were. It was rather dim inside, but the shelves stretching across the interior, spoke that they stood in a used bookstore. She breathed in deeply, eyelids fluttering. The sweet, musky scent of dog eared pages and ink. It was by far one of her favourite things in life, and with the fresh coffee in her hand, Molly felt the stress of everything gradually fall away.

She peered down, face warming when she realized that Jim still hadn't let go. His grip had loosened, and his thumb - rather absently, was rubbing the delicate bone of her wrist. Anxiously Molly swallowed the lump in her throat, worried he'd find out how fast her heart was beating. It was worse when he looked over his shoulder, smile having butterflies skating along her belly.

"I hope you don't mind," he said on a hushed breath, "that we wait out the storm here?"

"Uh..." She tore her gaze away, "it's okay."

"Just okay?" 

Her face was burning at the teasing tone, unable to respond much aside from a nod. He laughed, unaware the noise had goosebumps rising to her arms. 

Jim let go of her, still smiling as he strolled forward and began to walk through the aisles. Molly paused in front of the entrance, cursing herself for immediately missing the contact. Sighing lightly, she pressed a hand to her chest, imploring it to calm before she joined him.

Glancing to the front counter, the apparent owner distracted by a conversation with a customer, Molly walked past. It took her a few moments to find him within the cramped maze, but when she did, he was standing in a corner, absorbed with a story's synopsis.  

She paused, taking in the sight, the furrow of his brow as he read. She set her cup beside Jim's, on a small table in a nook. Not wanting to disturb him, she gingerly padded over, noticing the book already clutched in his arms. With a start she realized it was about astronomy. She must of made a sound, as his head snapped up.

Feeling as if she needed to explain herself, Molly said softly, "I didn't know you enjoyed the subject." He looked confused for a moment, before he looked downwards.

"Oh, um... Yes, I find it interesting. Is that weird?"

Hurriedly Molly waved her hands out in front of her, "No, of course not!" She winced at the loudness of her voice, quickly lowering it to say, "It was just surprising, that's all." It was a relief that Jim didn't appear offended by her comment. "Do... What do you enjoy about it?"

Jim mouthed the question to himself, bringing his gaze back down to the books in his hands, like they held all of the answers he needed. "Space... It's so vast, there's always something new to discover. You never get bored of it."

"Does..." Molly began to chew on the inside of her cheek, "Does that happen a lot? To you, I mean."

Jim shrugged, "I don't think it happens to me more than any other person."

"But..."

He rose a brow, "But...?"

They held each other's eyes for a second longer, before Molly broke away. "Forget it," she mumbled, "it was a stupid question." She didn't look at him, not even when he breathed her name in such a sad way. She listened to his shoes walk the handful of steps over to her, the creaking of the floorboards making her hair stand on end. 

His warm breath brushed her face, speaking of his closeness, as did the fingertips that tentatively touched her chin, tilting her head so their gazes met. "There's no stupid questions, especially from you."

Trembling, she rose a hand and grabbed the one touching her, squeezing it briefly before she brought it away from her face. She didn't know how to talk to him, how to address all of the things left unsaid. Her fingers tightened around his, still marveling the warmth, the blood that coursed through his veins. When Moriarty had been first revealed to her, she had wondered whether he was human - if a person could do such horrible things, and still have a beating heart. Right now, she couldn't deny it.

She anxiously swallowed the lump in her throat, peering up as Jim said, "You know... Your question reminded me of a quote I love."

"A... A quote?"

Jim hummed, squeezing her the smallest amounts. "Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” Before Molly could comment on this, all thought left her as Jim leaned down. The books fell to the ground, noise left unnoticed. Her breath hitched, robbed as he kissed her. While his free hand cupped the side of her face, her's was hanging limply by her side. As he deepened the kiss, gingerly she rose it up to his jacket, trembling as she gripped his lapels. Using it as an anchor, everything else fell away. The gentle pattering of the rain was muffled, as was the conversation in the background. 

She had barely pulled away, taking in big gulps of air as he trailed his kisses from her mouth and to her jaw. "Jim," she breathed, shuddering. Never in her wildest dreams could she imagine this, snogging with Jim Moriarty in between a bookstore aisle.  _Moriarty_... Her eyes snapped open.

He shot her a startled look, disbelief colouring his expression as he was lightly shoved back. "I..." His hands fell away, gaze darting as they breathed heavily. "S-sorry, did... Did I do something wrong?"

Molly winced, "No! God, no, you..." She tugged an escaped lock of hair behind an ear. "You didn't anything wrong."

"But...?" His eyes creased with a frown, "Then why did you..." He blinked as Molly looked away, studying her flushed cheeks and her shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "but I can't." Sherlock's face flashed behind her eyelids, clear disappointment making her eyes sting.

"Molly." She glanced up, sniffling when he reached out to her. Dragging his thumb underneath her eye, smearing the tear's trail. "It's okay, I'm not going to pressure you into anything you're uncomfortable with." She opened her mouth, but immediately closed it. Her chest squeezed as Jim wordlessly accepted this, taking a step back to fetch the books from the floor, and return them to their shelves.

When he turned back to her, he grabbed her hand, grip light so she could let go if she needed to. "C'mon," he said with a feigned smile, "the storm should be over with." 


	5. Cocoon

_Monday_

 

Molly had mixed feelings about returning back to work. While a part of her was glad to get away from Jim and his gentle smiles, the other half missed him terribly. As whether she liked it or not, at some point she'd gotten attached. Molly slumped over her desk, cradling her head between her hands.  _God, and what if this all turned out to be some elaborate revenge scheme?_ She winced. Her heart might not make it, if that's the case. Not when she could remember his hands on her, the tenderness behind his kiss... Violently she shook her head, trying to get rid of the memory.

"Dr. Hooper?" Her head snapped up, hands falling away, as she smiled awkwardly at the med' student standing in the door frame.

"Er- hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

The student nodded towards the office phone on the corner of Molly's desk, "There's a man trying to get in touch with you, it's about something urgent." _Someone was trying to..._

"Oh, um... Thank you." As she heard the door close, she looked down at it, noting that the button for line three had been flashing. Rather confused as to who it could be, Molly cautiously picked up the receiver and placed it against her ear, pressing the button. "Hello...?"

She immediately sat up rod straight, swept up in a coughing fit. When she emerged from its clutches, she hunched over and hissed, " _Jim?_   Slow down! What's happening?!" Her brows furrowed, listening as an obviously distressed Jim told her what had just occurred.

"I was playing with Toby, and I heard a noise."

"A noise? What noise?!"

"I thought I heard someone trying to break in, so I ca-"

Her chair crashed to the ground as she stood up, "Who did you call?!"

"Molly, of course, I called the police. Um, Molly?" Jim pulled the phone back slightly, staring at it.  She couldn't console him right now, she was far too busy leaving the room, running to the lockers to grab her jacket and purse. As she was slipping into her trainers, she heard someone call out to her.

"Is everything all right, Molly?" 

She didn't bother looking up, finishing off her shoe laces as she said, "I can't talk right now, Meena. I left the stove on at home."

"Again?" Meena's brows furrowed, "Do you want a lift then?" 

Molly straightened, "No, it's all right. Thanks for the offer though." Her friend slowly nodded her head, still concerned as she watched Molly grab her things and run off. As the pathologist's back hurried down the halls, she called out, "I'll call you later!" She sighed at the halfhearted wave she received.

* * *

 

By the time the taxi pulled up in front of her apartment, she knew it was too late. Passing the money to the driver, Molly slipped out of the car with a curse, and let the door slam behind her. Taking a deep breath in, she pointedly ignored the police cruiser parked, and entered the gate, jogging up the steps to her flat.

She walked through the unlocked door, and found Jim in the living room, talking to an officer. Immediately the pair looked up, both rising to their feet. Molly glanced to the other woman, before she quickly crossed over to Jim's side. She didn't recognize her, and the youthfulness to her face made Molly think that she was fresh from the academy. "Hello," the officer greeted, "You must be the homeowner. Molly Hooper."

"Yes, that's right."

The officer nodded, writing something on her notepad. "And I assume you're aware of the attempted break-in?"

"Yes.."

"Has this ever happened before?"

Molly glanced at Jim, "No, this is a quiet neighbourhood." As the other woman nodded, Molly tried to control her breathing. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why she wasn't being arrested. Why Jim wasn't in cuffs, why there wasn't a helicopter circling this building?

"Right, and how long have you been living together?"

She felt Jim's hand brush against her's, comforting her. "Um, recently... Is... Is this really of importance?" The officer looked up, a slight frown on her face.

"Ma'am, I'm just covering all of the bases. Moving in together is a big life change, do you know of someone who would be upset with that happening? An angry ex?"

Molly bit back a mirthless laugh; if anything, Jim would be the 'angry ex'. "No, no there isn't."

The officer pocketed the notepad. "There wasn't any significant damage, but we'll keep an eye on the area, in case they return. If they do, please call, and maybe..." She glanced around her surroundings, "Invest in better security. Locks can only go so far."

They mumbled their thanks, and showed her out. As soon as the door closed, Molly turned on Jim, "Are you okay?!"

Embarrassed, he held his hands out in front of him, "I'm fine. Really. Just a small fright." That did little to set Molly at ease. She had to verify that there wasn't any injury to Jim's person before she let him have some breathing space. With a heavy sigh, she took a step back and said, "I'll turn the kettle on."

While she busied herself with refilling the kettle with water, and placing it on a hot element on the stove top, she asked "So what happened?"

"You mean about the intruder?" Molly hummed, moving onto the tips of her toes to reach into a cupboard for the mugs. "Not much, they didn't get inside. It was pretty quiet at that moment, so I could easily hear a sound by the window."

"And which window was that?"

"The bathroom one. I didn't think much of it at the time, but then Toby ran out, and I heard him attacking something."

Molly spun around, sputtering "Attacking something?" 

Jim solemnly nodded. "At first I thought I left the window open, and a bird got in. But when I raced out to check, Toby was hanging by the claws onto this person's trousers. They quickly left after shaking him off." Molly simply stared at Jim, jaw on the floor. 

"Toby, my Toby, attacked someone?" She blinked at Jim's confirmation. She knew he could get... territorial at times, but this was a first. They say pets know someone's intentions better than their owners. Maybe Toby recognized the danger in that situation, and... protected Jim from this stranger. Toby, the cat who didn't like anyone aside for a lucky few, apparently adored the amnesic criminal mastermind, Jim Moriarty.

Slowly she turned back to the stove top, turning it off, and with a folded cloth, she poured the boiled water into the mugs. As she mulled this over, she realized that even as he pretended to be an IT drone, Jim had amazingly gotten along with Toby. In fact, he might be the first man the feline not only tolerated, but liked. If that was the case, that Toby saw some form of goodness in Jim, what did that say about her?

"Did... Did you check him afterwards?"

"He was mad, but that's it."

"Thank heavens." She spooned some sugar into their cups, and used it to fetch the teabags out, tossing them in the bin. And after a splash of milk, she set both mugs onto the table. She took her seat across from him, not yet wanting to make eye contact. There were things she needed to say, but she had no idea about how to go about it. "The officer that was here... What did you discuss?"

Jim rose a brow, taking a sip from his cuppa, before he inquired "You mean, aside from the break-in?"

Molly shook her head, mumbling, "I don't know what I mean. Just..." She let it go with a sigh. She knew he wouldn't accept that, that she'd piqued his interest, but there was a fear she was feeding. She didn't know how to stop, how to-

The doorbell rung. They both froze, slowly turning to stare at the front door. 

Molly was the first to get up, gesturing for Jim to remain seated as she jogged to the front, and opened it.

* * *

 

Greg Lestrade smiled, "Hello, Molly."

"Oh..." Molly glanced behind her, before she quickly stepped outside, shutting the door firmly behind her. "Hello, Greg. I haven't seen you since..." She trailed off, wincing in guilt from the sudden pain that crossed the detective's expression. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, replaced with a politeness that reminded Molly of John.

Greg coughed into his sleeve, "I heard you've been having a busy day."

"Um, no, not really." Her brows furrowed, and quickly she corrected herself. "Er- aside from the illegal entry that is." As equally embarrassed as she was, Greg nodded.

"Right, I just heard about it, and I thought I'd check in... To see how you were afterwards. I know how much a shock something like this can give."

"Yes," Molly mumbled, "it's been a crazy day." Awkwardly they stood on the landing, with Greg clearing his throat, and Molly fumbling with her jacket's zipper.

"Well," Greg started after a while, "We were lucky your boyfriend was in at the time."

Molly's head snapped up, "My... my boyfriend?"

"Isn't that..." Greg peered around her, squinting like he could see through walls. "Isn't that who he is?"

"Oh, um, yes... Yes, he is, I..." Molly broke off with a disgruntled sigh. And in a quieter voice this time, she said, "Sorry. I'm not thinking properly, my mind is a mess."

He waved his hands out in front of him, "Don't be, Molly. It's understandable. But listen, everyone is just happy that you're okay." On an afterthought, he added, "Your boyfriend too."

Molly managed a timid smile, but not much beyond that. 

"You know," Greg started, after another lengthy pause, "We can all meet up." Molly's head snapped up. "My wife and I," he elaborated. "We're still on the mends, but maybe a couple's night would do us some good. How does that sound?"

"Oh, um..." She didn't want to hurt him, truly she didn't, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen. It took her a moment, but soon enough she was ready with an excuse. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea, we're still in the early stages, so I don't want to... pressure him."

Greg rose a brow, "Don't you live together?" _Shit._

"N-not really, it's only temporary." _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Temporary?"

"Yes, he's getting his house... Um, renovated, so I offered the couch for a couple of days."

"That's nice of you, Molly, but can't he spend time at his parents?" She knew he meant nothing bad by it, that he was only worried for her safety, but Molly couldn't help but bristle at this line of questioning. She was an adult, for God's sake! 

"He could." She let the shortness of her tone get the message across. There was a look of disbelief on Greg's face, but soon enough that was overtaken by placidity. 

With a soft voice, he said, "Look, I only came here to see if you were okay - and certainly not to offend you. I'm sorry if that was the case." He waited until he saw her face relax before he continued on. "I think it'd be nice if we meet up for coffee, but if not, that's fine. Either way, it's been nice seeing you. I'll be leaving now."

She felt awful, standing there as he walked down the stairs. He'd gotten about half way, before he glanced over his shoulder. The sombre colours of the surroundings, brought out the bags under his eyes, the grey of his hair. It was clear that these past years had taken their toll, had stolen what it could, happiness and simplicity.

"Be careful," he called out, "you never know who you can trust nowadays."

Molly waited until his unmarked car drove off, before she headed back inside. _What would he say?_   She thought sadly. _If he knew who I was hiding?_

 

He was waiting for her, in the living room. Clearly, there was something he wanted to say - seemly about to burst with it. Whatever remained of their casual chat, was lost with the sight. "Molly," he began, trying so hard to keep his tone light, "can we talk?"

"Talk?" She whispered back. After a moment, she haltingly nodded, and took one end of the couch. Her stomach twisted into a knot when he took the other. She didn't comment on the distance between them, too busy hiding her trembling fingers in the fabric of her shirt.

"That man... How do you know him?"

Molly paused, unsure that if she mentioned Greg by name that it'd have Jim's memories flooding back. "He's a detective," she settled with, "he's a friend of mine. We see each other when he comes down to the morgue, when he needs an analyse of a victim done."

"And he's just a friend?" 

"Yes...?" _What was he getting at?_ "Jim, if you're trying to say something, just say it."

It took a tense second, but Jim did precisely that. "Why were you so hesitant to talk about me? You practically hid me away!" 

Molly winced, "You were listening."

Jim shook his head, "Molls, are you ashamed of dating me?" Her spine straightened. "I know I don't make much money, I'm the dork from IT, but-"

" _Christ_ ," she breathed, "God, Jim. No... I'm not.."

"Then what are you hiding from me?!"

"I..."

Jim looked away from her. "I'm not stupid," he muttered, "I know you're not telling me something." Before Molly could comment, he stood up. "Whatever," he grunted, "don't tell me." He stomped to the front, grabbing his jacket before he yanked open the door. Finally snapped out of her daze, Molly sprung to her feet, shoes sliding over the floorboards as she raced over.

"Jim, where are you going?!"

He didn't answer, letting the door slam as he left. By the time she threw it open, already he was jogging down to the sidewalk. "Jim?!"


	6. The Emerging

He shouldn't have gotten far, but when Molly saw a taxi drive away, she knew she was screwed. Cursing loudly, Molly held her head, pushing the hair back. As she watched the car go down the street, an idea popped into her head. She took one last glance at it, before she sprinted back to her flat. Her cell phone was found in her purse, and with trembling fingers, she sent a series of texts to Meena. Hopefully her friend would read them in time, and come to help.

"Jim," she sighed, terrified what would happen to him. What if he got lost and injured? What if someone recognized him? Molly swallowed the lump in her throat. Best not to think about that. 

She flinched at a sudden chime sound, dropping her gaze to her phone. 

**Molly**

| Hi. I can't explain right now, but I need your help. _5:35 pm_

**Molly**

| Can you come over?? It's really urgent! _5:35 pm_

**Molly**

| Please, Meena!!!! _5:36 pm_

**Meena**

| Let me guess, it's the stove? Haha. _5:36 pm_

Angrily, she shook her head, typing a response. This wasn't the time for joking around, with every second the risk of losing Jim was greater.

**Molly**

| Meena!!! It's an EMERGENCY!!! _5:36 pm_

She waited half a minute before she could get a response, but it felt like a day had gone by. 

**Meena**

| OK, I'm coming. But I think I deserve an explanation. I'll be there shortly.  _5:37 pm_

 

With a relieved exhale, Molly mumbled her thanks aloud. Meena could be overly invested in Molly's life at times, but in a state of panic, she always came through to help. Call it the mind space of a nurse, but it was a true blessing. It made Molly all the more thankful that they were friends - best friends.

* * *

 

Molly was more than on her way to having a nervous breakdown by the time Meena showed up. Waiting by the curb, she waved her friend over. The car had barely come to a halt, and already she was moving to open the door, and to climb in. A bewildered frown from her friend awaited her. "Do you mind telling me what's happening, or is this one of those, 'there's no time' moments?"

For a second she was mute, closing the door and putting her seat belt on with the movements of a guilty child. "Er- for one, he went that way." She gestured to the end of the street. She winced when her friend sighed, switching gears to drive down the road.

"And who exactly is this 'he'? Did..." Meena's head snapped over to stare at her, "I know I was joking earlier, but did someone steal Toby?!"

"What!" Molly vehemently shook her head. "No! He wasn't stolen!"

Considerably her companion relaxed, but it didn't take long for suspicion to overcome her. "Then, why exactly am I following someone?"

"It's kind of hard to explain."

"And how's that?"

Molly slumped in her seat, wanting to disappear. Was it at all possible to disclose what has been happening to her for the past two weeks? How could she justify allowing Jim to stay at her home? That she hid him away from Scotland Yard, and essentially protected him... Kept him all to herself... Even if Meena was her closest friend, Molly didn't think she'd understand - at least, entirely. No, what was best right now was a half-truth. Maybe later, she'd manage to say more, but that wasn't going to happen now. "I'm... I had a friend over."

The drumming of Meena's fingers on the steering wheel, encouraged her to go on. 

"You haven't met him, he's... he's from my past." It wasn't a lie, but the additional information she was leaving out made her stomach knot up. "We had an argument. Well, it was more of a miscommunication error, and he ran off."

"Miscommunication error?" Meena mumbled. "Seems about right."

Molly rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore that. "Look, I just want to find him and to clear things up."

"Right, and you know where he's headed?"

"Well..." She moved her head to stare out of her window, mulling the inquiry over as a series of buildings past by in a blur. If she was going off of Jim from IT, then there were only a few places she could think of he'd go. The locations of their dates. There was only one place that seemed the most logical, especially if he wanted to be alone. St. James's Park. On their second date, they went out for coffee and just walked around. The park isn't that far from the hospital, so it seemed the perfect place to chat without being disturbed. 

Desperately she hoped that was still true, and that she'd find him there.

* * *

 

Jim didn't bother to look away, still staring as the water rippled, as she approached. The crisp sound of her shoes walking on the grass made her presence apparent, but at least something was revealed. 

Gingerly, Molly sat beside him on the bench, overlooking the ducks swimming in the lake. He still didn't know how she found him, and for once, he didn't care. Desperately he told himself that, but all the same he felt a strange pressure to his chest that she had searched for him - even if he ran off.

"There has been something I've been meaning to tell you."

Ever so slowly, he turned to face her. Molly wet her lips, needing another second before she could continue on. She steadily kept her gaze on the park around them, not willing to meet his eyes as she spoke. "After our third date, I broke up with you."

Both of Jim's eyebrows shot up. Out of everything, he didn't expect that, not in a million years. He opened his mouth, not sure what he wanted to say, but feeling as though he ought to. Quickly with a pointed look, Molly put an end to that. Message clear: _let me finish._ With a jerky nod, he did just that, swallowing his questions down once more.

"I hadn't done it because I was 'embarrassed' about being with you, you should know I'm not a person like that. But, you..." Molly cut herself off with a sigh, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. _God, how did she ever get into this predicament?_ "You..." She dropped her hands, squinting at the treetops swaying in the distance. "You weren't who I thought you were."

Her gaze snapped over to him, distraught by the confusion on his face - how lost he was. "And... And who was I? This 'other me'?"

"You..." She could see him so well in her mind's eye, the man who had haunted her dreams. _Moriarty._ She wanted to spit that name out, to be done with it, but the weight of it held her tongue down. "You were..." Molly sucked in a deep breath, "You were someone who broke my heart." Before he could say something, still so clueless as to what she could possibly have meant, she was rambling off. If someone were to visualize it, Molly was attempting to sweep her previous comments under a rug, like it hadn't happened - like her big mouth hadn't gotten the best of her. "I mean, after I found out you were flirting with someone else, I couldn't sit by a-"

"Wait!"

"I know I may look like a pushover, and sometimes I am, but even then I-"

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to finally look him straight in the eyes. " _Molly_."

His fingers still holding onto her face, Molly mumbled a quiet, "Yes?" There was a frown to his expression, one she couldn't look away from.

"You said before, that I was flirting with someone?" It wasn't the easiest nodding, but still Molly made an attempt at it. "Who?"

"Oh, uh..." Molly bit her bottom lip. Could she mention Sherlock's name? If anything were to be a trigger, it would be that. The best she could come up with was, "I'd rather not..."

The grimace on Jim's face worsened. "And why is that?"

She lightly took his hand, and brought it down. "It's something I'd rather not remember." That wasn't a complete lie. Sherlock divulging Jim's sexuality was an unpleasant memory, one that she could do without. And yet, after all of that, his previous statements got her to thinking...

Was her Jim... She shook her head. Was _this_ Jim still wrapped up in playing a character? Were Sherlock's comments still correct, or... was Moriarty something _other?_ She never liked putting labels on people, she reserved that for the corpses, but currently, she was stuck in this grey area with him.

One thing was certain to her, that she had developed emotions for Jim, and not only were they undeserved, but there was no way in sight of getting rid of them. For a second time, she had allowed him to crawl under her skin, and make himself home there. "I'm sorry."

Jim shook his head, hesitating before he was certain she wouldn't pull away, before he reached out to her. His hand lightly landed on her shoulder, and he mumbled, "Why on earth would you be sorry?" His grip tightened the smallest amounts, but it was enough that she turned to face him more. There was a stormy expression on his face, but with a start, she realized it wasn't directed at her. No, that mess of swirling anger was aimed at himself - the loathing caught her off guard, making her stomach churn into a painful knot. "I can't believe this. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you're lying, but..." Jim sighed heavily, "Oh Molls, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's..." She reached up to her shoulder, holding onto his hand. "It's okay."

"No," he stressed, voice thick, "it's not. You shared your home with me, even after everything." He slowly tilted his head. "Why would you even do that?"

The question took her by surprise, to the point where she needed a second before she could even reply. "I'm..." She shakily sucked in a breath. "I'm not sure." There was a weight that seemed to lift from her shoulder with the admittance, drifting into the space between their conversation. "After I saw you, that was it for me... I couldn't turn you away."

"You're..." Jim cleared his throat. "You're too good for me. The fact that you would give me a second chance, that you would even help me..." He squeezed her slightly. "And how after everything, I... God, Molly, _I kissed you."_

She laughed, more than a touch embarrassed. "Yes, you did." He tried to pull away then, but she wouldn't let him. Holding that hand down, she shot him a meaningful look. They both stared at one another. Eventually, she said, "At first, I was shocked and hurt seeing you. But..." She wet her lips. "That didn't stop me from..."

"...From?"

Molly glanced away, to the image of the ducks floating in the distance. She listened for a moment, to the muffled sound of the city, a seemingly another world from their's. When she looked back to him, she studied the concerned furrow of his brows, the disheartened tenderness under everything. It was hard to keep her voice from breaking when she admitted, "It didn't stop me from loving you again."

The walls that she had built around herself, to protect her heart from being damaged, all came crashing down. One moment, she stared at Jim, and in the next she kissed him. This was something that was never meant to happen, never in a thousand years did she think she could kiss Moriarty. But that's exactly it, isn't it? He wasn't Moriarty. No, the criminal mastermind had long since been dead. This man, who was pulling her closer, like he couldn't bear any distance between them, was someone completely different.

She barely moved away, trying to regain the breath he had stolen as he peppered her jaw and cheeks with what seemed an endless amount of love. She had remembered when that first happened, when the sincerity behind his actions knocked the air from her lungs. But for once, her guilty mind wasn't howling at her, shaming everything and nothing. Instead, that silence and warmth of his presence seeped into her bones, and followed her back to the flat.

* * *

 

How they arrived back, was of little importance, as well as how they managed to stumble from the front door and to her bed - although, she remembered thanking Jim for closing the door, in between kisses.

Molly gasped, falling blindly on the bed. She didn't have much oxygen in her to do it again, when he tumbled into her. Jim was by no means a bulky man, but still Molly was not prepared for his dead-weight. What guttural sound she must have made in discomfort, had Jim swiftly lifting himself up by his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, apologetic as he whispered, "Sorry."

"No," she said back, eyelids fluttering at the warm, minty breath washing over her. "It's okay." A second later, she added, "You're okay."

There was a pause before a shy, but certainty pleased smile stretched across his face. She knew it then, that he was killing her. How else could she explain why he was causing such feelings to bubble within her chest? If she were alone, at least then she could bury her face into a pillow, and scream until her vocal chord's refused to cooperate. Instead of that, she turned away, poorly trying to hide her flushed face. It didn't work. In fact, Jim laughed. 

The sweetness behind it made Molly squint, partially wanting the ceiling to cave in and kill them both. Unfortunately, this didn't happen, but what did, was that Jim tilted her head so she'd stare at him again. He smiled at her fondly, before he leaned down and kissed her. 

Slowly, she drew her hands up from the blanket covering the bed, and threaded her fingers into his hair. It was soft to the touch, smelling of the shampoo they shared. At first, she wasn't sure how she'd feel about a man smelling of cherries, but on him, it felt oddly right.

Against his lips, she moaned, feeling him fumble with the buttons on her trousers. It took him a second, neither wanting to leave any space between them, but he did it. Along with her blouse, it was tossed over hand, into some random pile. 

She lifted her head when he moved back, watching as he shed his own outfit and let it fall to the ground. Molly tried to soak everything in, to commit it to memory. The surprising firmness to his body, and the endearing way he stumbled back to her. The kisses he pressed into her face were eager, making her eyelids flutter, and a smile stretch across her lips as she giggled.

Molly let her head fall back, feeling his lips drift from her jaw, to her throat, and down along her collarbone. She sighed, her skin becoming covered in goosebumps when he kissed the tops of her breasts, clever fingers inching upwards to unlatch her bra. Wordlessly, she peered downwards.

The setting sun slipped through her bedroom curtains, painting the room in rich red and oranges. Sensing her gaze, Jim looked up, dripping with the colours. He smiled, and with a start, Molly realized how beautiful he was - how much he felt like home. That for once, she didn't mind that she was separate from the rest of the world. Not if he could keep her company...


	7. Butterfly

_The morning after_

 

Slowly she opened her eyes, smiling softly at the sleeping face beside her. He'd drooled a bit on his pillow. Stifling a giggle, Molly gingerly reached over, and dragged her fingers over his cheeks. Gentle enough to not awake him, but with enough pressure to verify that he was real. That she hadn't dreamt all of this. 

As much as staying here seemed perfect, she had things to do. The main priority being emptying her bladder. Molly pulled away, favouring to sit up. She had just lifted the blanket, when suddenly a hand shot out and gripped her wrist, and yanked her back. 

Falling down with a startled, "Oof", Molly turned to look to the side. Owlishly she blinked at the man beside her. Despite his closed eyes, the self satisfied smirk on his face spoke of his consciousness. Transfixed, she watched as he cracked an eye open.

Voice low with sleep, he mumbled, "Good morning."

The corners of Molly's lips tugged upwards in a smile, and she whispered back, "Good morning." Swept up in a sudden urge, she brushed Jim's strands of hair from his eyes. Chest squeezing when he brought that hand down, and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

"What time is it?"

Molly glanced at the clock on the night stand, ignoring how the sensation of Jim's lips covered her in goosebumps. "It's still early, you can sleep longer." In response, her company let her hand fall to his chest. Lazily stretching his body out, until his toes curled. Ever so fond, she was reminded of Toby.

Question jumbled with a yawn, he asked, "Are you getting ready for work?" She hummed, train of thought lost when Jim moved the blanket off of him, and got out of bed. She lingered on the sight, need to pee completely forgotten. While walking to the door, he paused by a window, filtered sunlight from the curtains bathing him in shades of golden yellow and pastel pinks. Jim rose a brow, "Coming?"

Molly chewed her bottom lip, forcibly ignoring the double entendre, and followed after him. 

By the time she grabbed a large t-shirt to wear, and a pair of slippers for her cold feet, already he was turning the kettle on. While she listened to him rummage in the cupboards for a pair of mugs, Molly went into the bathroom. Shooing Toby back so she could close the door, Molly ignored his want to be with her and did her business. A minute later, and the toilet flushed, she was shaking her washed hands dry as she joined Jim in the kitchen. Lightly she padded over to him, stepping into his personal space. Without thinking, she pressed a kiss onto the spot in between his shoulder blades.

Her lips curved into a smile, feeling a shiver race up his spine. "Good morning," she repeated once more, just because she could - in fact, she loved the sound of it. She lifted her head up when she felt Jim twist around to look at her. Brow raised, he was smiling.

If she could, she would bottle this moment. Every time she felt lonely, she'd open it up, and remind herself that someone cared for her. Before she could stop it, a rotten part inquired,  _does he really?_   She may have chosen to start seeing Jim again, but that still didn't get rid of the notion that she was sleeping with Moriarty. Her cheeks burned, leaning into the warmth of Jim's naked body.  _Did that make her a bad person?_

Jim's smile faltered, turning into a worried frown. "Molly?" With the sound of his voice, she snapped out of it, pulling away.

"I... I should get dressed for work."

He turned fully around, clearly sensing that something was wrong. "Are you okay, love?"

_No._ "Yes." He didn't look convinced. "I've just got a bit of a headache."

"Well... You look like you're starting to get sick, you've lost a lot of colour. Why don't you call in? I'm sure they can spare you for a day." That was sorely tempting. If she had it her way, Molly might never leave her flat again, not if she could be with Jim instead. Stay in this tiny bubble of theirs. But another part of her started to protest, reminding her that wasn't healthy. 

"Yeah, but then my patients won't have anyone to talk to."

Jim's look of concern dipped into an exasperated chuckle, shaking his head. "You have me there. Well..." He reached over, affectionately dragging his knuckles over her cheek. "I hope you have a good day, Toby and I will be waiting until you get back."

Molly hummed, standing up on the points of her feet to quickly kiss him. Just as she felt Jim's hand land on her hip, she dropped down, far more breathless than she ought to be from a simple peck. They stared at each other for a few seconds, studying the other's face, but for completely different reasons. For Molly, she wanted to imprint the image in her mind, to help get her through this day without him being by her side. For Jim... He couldn't quite make sense of his thoughts.

Fifteen minutes later, Molly caught a cab outside the flat and headed to the hospital. Unaware that Jim lingered in the front entrance, watching as she went down the street. He stepped back inside, securely shutting the door before he went into the living room. He offered Toby, who was lounging by a windowsill, a few pets. "It looks like it's just the two of us."

Toby merely squinted at him through narrowed slits, purring loudly as he flicked his tail. Cracking a smile, Jim dropped down beside him, laying on the carpeted floor. Eyes sliding shut, he listened to the noise from outside, traffic and the wind rustling tree branches.  

 

He didn't understand what happened, but it felt like a second had passed. When he opened his eyes, he was reclining on a leather sofa. To the side of him the wall was made up of a large glass window pane. The city skyline, which may have surely been regarded to as beautiful, was rather boring to him. He couldn't find any joy in the sprawling maze of streets and buildings. Chin resting on his knuckles, he held out his free hand. Accepting the documents given to him by a faceless member of his staff, he finally looked down.

A photo of young woman stared back at him. The poor lighting(it wasn't doing her appearance any favours), and the quality spoke that this was used for identification. Hair a mess, no makeup, and squinting uncomfortable in a pair of glasses. Clearly she'd been running late, and hadn't had enough time to even put her contacts in. The word  _BORING_   reverberated in his skull, but for whatever reason, he still read the text below it.

Miss Molly Hooper, a specialist registrar, was licensed by Barts and The London. Father long since dead, lives alone - hopelessly single... Yada yada! He tossed the documents onto the cushion beside him, turning back to the glass. But something was digging its nasty fingers into his brain, turning the gears until they were whirling.

Groaning aloud, he snatched the papers back up, glaring at Molly Hooper. His brows knitted together. Boring was scratched out, replaced with _invisible... Unseen... Unknown._ "You know what they say," he called out to no one in particular, "the lure of the unknown is irresistible."

As soon as he said that, everything changed. No longer was he sitting on cushions, no he was sitting on a roof ledge. The sky above was a pale blue, partially covered with clouds. Jim sniffed, nose scrunching at the bite of the wind, of how numb his fingers were. He had only a few seconds to dwell in that vision, overcome with the knowledge that he was waiting for something. That something big was going to happen.

Jim opened his eyes, unsure how much time had passed. Slowly he sat up, feeling odd. It was almost as if he was dirty... Sticky even. That was ridiculous, a downward glance proved that he was physically clean. Still troubled by the notion, he still got to his feet, and stumbled towards the bathroom to have a shower. 

* * *

 

By the time her shift was over, Molly was giddy to return home. Not because she feared that Jim might wander outside and cause mayhem. No, for once she was just simply eager to spend more time with him. 

Unlocking the front door, she called out as she headed inside, "I'm home!" There was a second of a delay, but eventually she heard him call out.

"Welcome back!"

Smiling to herself, Molly shut the door gently behind her, and slipped out of her shoes. Jim walked out to her when she was shrugging out of her coat. Wordlessly, he took it from her, and hung it up in the closet. While he did that, Molly stared at his back, stomach doing a little flip. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to this, someone caring for her so easily.

She adverted her gaze when he turned back, cheeks warming.

If Jim noticed, he didn't comment, only asked in an amused voice, "Are you hungry?"

Molly peered upwards, "I'm famished." His hand placed on her hip, she let him gently usher her towards the kitchen table. The dishes and cutlery were already laid out, with a lidded pot resting on a trivet. Reluctantly, Molly stepped out of his contact to take her seat. Sitting down, she breathed in heavily.

The air was thick with a heat that comes with cooking, and the smell of garlic, tomato, and cheese. Her mouth watering, a simple word entered Molly's thoughts. Spaghetti. Transfixed, she watched Jim lean over the table, and lift the lid. Steam immediately drifted upwards, seasoning the air further with the scent of spices. Who knew Moriarty was such a great cook?

 

After they both were full of pasta, they migrated to the living room. Molly needed a quick shower to get rid of the smell of decomp first, but toweled off, she sprawled on the couch. She didn't really remember what was on the telly, just that with the heat of the water, and the fullness to her belly, it made her content. Stifling a yawn, Molly didn't protest as Jim moved her so she was leaning against him.

The channels being changed by a bored Jim, was an ambient background noise. Along with the beating of his heart, Molly found it difficult to fight off sleep. Before she knew it, and with Jim's fingers weaving through her hair, she drifted off.

* * *

 

When she awoke, Molly came to realize three things. It was nighttime, she'd slept on the couch, and Jim was gone. At first there wasn't any panicking, she just sat there, blinking groggily at the darkness that surrounded her. Slowly she dropped her gaze to the quilt that had been draped over her. Frowning, Molly wet her lips before she called out, "Jim!?"

She couldn't hear anything, other than her noisy fridge humming. Peeling the quilt back, Molly stumbled to her feet. In a louder voice this time, she tried again, "Jim!?" Still nothing... At that point, the walls started to close in on her.

 

There were so many questions, ones that he didn't think he could ignore any longer. He knew Molly worried about him, and truly he didn't want that, but there was a gnawing deep within. Every time he shoved it down, it reared its ugly head, forcing him to admit that something was amiss. That everything wasn't perfect, that there was something seriously wrong with him.

Tonight, when all of that turmoil boiled over, he waited for Molly to pass out before he stole her badge. He felt guilty for doing that, but maybe after everything, she'd understand his intentions. 

A cab dropped him off at the front of St. Barts, and careful of the security and staff, he snuck inside. Keeping to desolate corridors, he veered into a service elevator. Thick metal door shutting, Jim sagged against the railing, sighing. Pressing the button for the roof, he listened to the grinding of the gears, the shaking under his feet as the conveyor lifted him upwards. Or that's what he told himself, it was only the old machine vibrating, and not his own legs.

That he wasn't swept up in this dangerous cocktail of fear, and excitement. A sense of twisted elation, that finally, he could understand his life. And without a doubt, he knew that this was the place to do it. The roof to St. Barts, would speak the truth - no matter, how vile.

"Finally," he whispered, staring at his reflection. The cold, dark eyes of a man he didn't know. "I'm ready..." Elevator coming to a lurching halt, a ring announced the arrival of the floor. With a noise of finality, the door groaned in protest as it opened.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Jim crossed the threshold.

* * *

 

It took several minutes for Molly to slip out of her panic attack, to gather her thoughts to think about her situation. "Okay, okay," she whispered to herself, head between her hands as she paced her flat. "I can do this, calm down, Molly."

Inhaling until her chest hurt, she released the breath in a gush. Feeling a bit better, she rambled off the facts. "He left when I fell asleep, which doesn't give him too much time to travel. Where would he go?" _The park?_   Quickly she rid herself of the notion, violently shaking her head. It didn't seem something that Jim would do, especially so soon. From the back of her mind, a voice sneered,  _did you even know him to begin with?_

Grinding her teeth, Molly squeezed her eyes shut. "What's different? What happened?"  _Why would he do this to me?_ There had to be a common thread, something that she couldn't see, but was right in front of her face.

She told him about their break-up, they'd resolved that... Sort of. Everything was going great! But then, out of no where, he disappeared like a ghost. "Like a..." Molly's eyes flew open. "Ghost." The hospital. Instead of feeling relieved, her blood ran cold.

"Shit!" Spinning on her heel, Molly hurried to the front entrance, grabbing her things before she yanked the door open. Shoes half on, Molly stumbled down the stairs, slamming sound chasing after her. 

It took another six minutes until the nearest cab rolled before the curb in front of her flat. It hadn't even stopped yet, and already Molly was wrenching the door open. Address springing forth from her lips, she must have looked quite the sight. Hurriedly, as though it was his boyfriend- lover(whatever!) was missing, the driver pressed hard on the gas pedal.

And while Molly fumbled with getting her seat belt on, there was only one thing she could do at that moment. Pray that Jim hadn't hurt himself, or heaven forbid, anyone else.

 

By the time they finally arrived, Molly was on the verge of having another mental breakdown. Ignoring the concerned, "Miss, are you all right?" She stuffed the money into his hands, probably too much, and wrenched the door open. As soon as her feet touched asphalt, she was sprinting up the path to the hospital.

Shoes skidding on the road to slow down, she almost ran into the glass sliding door. If it were any other time, she might have felt embarrassed, but that emotion was the least of her worries right now. Not with terror snapping so closely at her heels.

It chased her down the maze of corridors, around the several turns she took until she could get to an elevator. "C'mon, c'mon," Molly hissed, insistently hitting the call button. The words:  _please don't be dead, please don't be dead, please don't be-_ chanted endlessly through her mind.

The metal doors opened. 

* * *

 

For all of the frenzy she had been overcome with, when the door opened up again, Molly hesitated. Beyond this place, there was the chance that the man she loved was gone. That Moriarty had killed him too. 

Chewing on her bottom lip, Molly tucked her arms against her chest, and stepped forward.

The sky had opened up, revealing a storm unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Or maybe the dread she felt, would have been different if she was on the street instead of a roof. Teeth chattering as she was battered by frigid rain, and howling wind, Molly weakly called out, "Jim!?" The sound was completely stolen, taken by the raging thunderstorm overhead.

It was silly really. This whole situation was fucking crazy! But still, Molly foolishly pressed onwards. 

At first, she didn't see him, not until she got closer to the very end. The comfort she felt at finally spotting him, was marginal to her apprehension. His form was bent over the ledge, arms bracing, as he stared downwards.

"Please, don't jump."

He stiffened, slowly standing up straight. 

Louder this time, the pleading obvious to even the heavens above, Molly repeated "Please!" The air was completely knocked from her lungs when he turned around. She didn't know what she expected, he was still physically the same. The clothes he'd worn to bed - the ones she'd helped him pick out, were still there. And aside for this heavy tiredness to his expression, it was still Jim staring back at her.

"Molly."

She shivered, frozen in place as he took the few steps to stand before her. He looked her over, searing gaze banishing the cold - everything fell away. The rain a mere hush in the background, he said her name again, whispered it like it held the secrets to the universe. Like he held that knowledge, in the palm of his hand. " _Molly_..."

Mesmerized, she watched as he reached out, fingers tucking the plastered hair away from her eyes. The clear awe behind his voice, the raw emotion, made her knees buckle. Before she could fall, his hand shot out, gripping her shoulder hard. Too hard. But all the same, he kept her upright.

"Love," he breathed out, underlying amusement flashing in his eyes and voice. "Did you miss me?"

 

_A month later_

 

"So, uh..." Molly glanced to the side, away from her father's grave. "That's how I met my boyfriend." Her awkward smile dropped at Jim's snort. Without thinking, she elbowed him in the side. Hissing with discomfort, he glared at her. After a few tense seconds, he rolled his eyes heavenwards, fighting a pleased grin.

"It's nice finally meeting you, Mr. Hooper."


End file.
